


In The Palm of His Hand

by CashaMayfield



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CashaMayfield/pseuds/CashaMayfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the  <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://mecha-erotica.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://mecha-erotica.livejournal.com/">mecha_erotica</a> April challenge – exploration and experimentation involving TF/non-TF… *grins* Just a little tantric adventure after a bit of overcharging…</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Palm of His Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by the events taking place in [Just Friends?](http://community.livejournal.com/mecha_erotica/59673.html#cutid1)  by  [](http://wyntir-rose.livejournal.com/profile)[wyntir_rose](http://wyntir-rose.livejournal.com/) and [Spike/Bumblebee fic](http://community.livejournal.com/mecha_erotica/41620.html)  by [](http://someidiot.livejournal.com/profile)[someidiot](http://someidiot.livejournal.com/)  So my thanks to the authors of these… especially  [](http://wyntir-rose.livejournal.com/profile)[wyntir_rose](http://wyntir-rose.livejournal.com/) (Damn, that fic is HOT!)  And thanks should go to the A… for without his… *ahem*… help… I might never have thought of the idea lying there after well… non-TF interactions…
> 
> First posted on Livejournal on 25/06/2007

The flat of her hand brushed across the cool metal of his chevron.  She revelled in the feel of it, the difference between the cool flat metal of the warmth of her hand.  Slowly, she moved her hand down onto his helmet.  It was warmer there; an indication of the life inside.  A smile played across her face as she pressed herself against the warm metal.  It felt so good to the touch; smooth and sleek and warm.

Ratchet glared at Wheeljack as he flashed a smirk at him.  
“Enough already.” He reached up and carefully plucked her from his shoulder with two fingers, placing her in his other hand and holding her at optic level stared at her.  
“You are overcharged.” He stated, clearly pronouncing each word.  
“So are you.” She retorted, barely keeping her balance as he brought her down to the desktop.  
“She’s got a point there Ratch.” Wheeljack laughed.  
“If I’m overcharged, you most certainly are Wheeljack.” Ratchet retorted.  Wheeljack nodded and hiccupped before leaning back in his chair.  
“Yup.” He replied, slipping solidly into recharge.  


“He hiccupped!”  She giggled.  “I didn’t realise you could hiccup!”  She laughed, trying to keep her balance on Ratchet’s hand.  He looked down at her, belatedly realising she hadn’t stepped off his hand onto the desktop like he intended.  
“You be surprised what Wheeljack can do when he’s overcharged.”  She gave up trying to keep her balance and sat down in his hand, leaning back against fingers that automatically curled up to cradle her protectively.  
“So what do you do when you’re overcharged then?” She asked innocently, stretching across his hand, delighting in the feel of the slightly rough metal against her bare arms.  Ratchet opened his mouth to answer before pausing and glaring down at her.  
“I refuse to answer that question.”  
“Why?  On the grounds that it might incriminate you?  There’s no one else but us here… and I don’t think Wheeljack’s in any position to tattle-tail tomorrow.”  She deliberately didn’t look up at him so he wouldn’t see the smile on her face.  Instead, she started tracing the scars criss-crossing the base of his thumb.  The small gouges to Ratchet were like deep grooves to her and the texture in the groove was different to that outside.  She dragged a finger down one particularly deep groove when Ratchet made a noise she’d never heard him make before.  


It was a low, primeval sound; more like a grunt than anything else she could name.  She dared to look up at him.  Surprise flashed across her face as she took in his expression; azure optics darkened to a deep midnight blue, mouth half open as though he were caught in some rapturous dream.  Abruptly, she pulled her hand away, almost afraid she’d done something wrong, yet knowing that it was something far more interesting she had started.  
“Er… Ratchet?”  She watched as awareness flooded back into his optics and he shifted his position slightly before sitting down heavily in his chair.  “Did I do something I shouldn’t have?” She asked carefully when she was sure he was paying attention to her again.  
“No…” Ratchet said slowly, his voice huskier than it normally was.  She relaxed back against his fingers again; relieved to know she hadn’t caused him any pain.  “Not exactly.” He continued.  She sat straight back up again, worry etched on her features.  
“What then?”  
“I’m just… rather more… sensitive there than other mechs.  Being a medic…” His explanation was flustered.  Much like he was.  And it was her that had gotten him flustered.  She liked that thought.  She grinned and flattened her hands out on his palm.  


“Sensitive in a good way I’m thinking.” She smiled as she flexed her fingers, watching for his reaction.  Ratchet bit back his original reply, instead managing nothing more than a groan as the sensations of her fingernails across his palm raced into his cpu.  While it was unusual for the sensations to be caused by a human, Ratchet certainly wasn’t complaining about them.  He focussed on her through his haze of pleasure, watching what she was doing to him.  Which in itself was sending more signals to his cpu.  Her eyes were half-closed; a small smile playing across her lips as she slowly moved her hands across his.  With a soft sigh she stretched out, lying on her front in his palm.  He did a quick medical scan as she writhed on his hand.  Elevated heart rate, increased pulse, slightly raised temperature; he could see all that through his scans, yet he could feel some of it through his hands.  Designed as a medic, his hands had been crafted to be particularly sensitive; a quality necessary in his line of work where sight wasn’t always able to be relied upon.  That the sensors in his hand had a direct and pleasurable link to his cpu was something he’d never thought too much about in recent years.  Now the thought consumed him.  A twitch brought him back to staring at her again.  She sat up and looked around, slightly confused as to what had startled her.  


“Energy field.” Ratchet managed to say.  He could feel it raging around him like never before, sending out pulses of pure energy.  Energy her body was interpreting as something like static shock.  She murmured something he couldn’t quite catch before stretching out again, relaxing against his hand as she stroked circles on his palm.  Circles that happened to be over a particularly sensitive circuit.  He groaned and shuttered his optics against the flood of pleasure into his cpu.  His energy field sparked and pulsated, stretching out for contact.

Her eyes widened in shock and pleasure as his energy field made contact with her.  Ratchet onlined his optics to see her head thrown back in wild abandon before his energy field flared completely and overwhelmed his own circuits.  
“Wow.” Was all she managed to say before succumbing to the welcoming darkness that was surrounding her.  
“Wow.” He echoed as he felt himself slipping into a sated recharge, the warmth of her body still a solid weight in his palm.

When Wheeljack woke up, he had no idea of what had happened.  All he saw was Ratchet leant back in his chair deep in recharge, one hand still resting on the desk top his palm open with her curled up inside.  He barely noticed the residual crackle of energy in the room and decided that he wouldn’t wake them up quite yet.  They looked cute together.  Besides, he had to get a picture of the scene first…


End file.
